


read all about it

by bughead



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anonymity, F/M, Journalist!Betty, Writer!Jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bughead/pseuds/bughead
Summary: After a scalding review of F. Jones' debut crime novel, Archie Andrews takes to Twitter to defend his best friend's anonymous writing career.Betty just wishes she never recommended that book to Veronica in the first place.





	read all about it

**Author's Note:**

> archie is famous, jug is an author, b&v are journalists for a new york newspaper.

**J**

_Mysterious author F. Jones gained a surprising following prior to the release of his debut novel, Lakeview, due to his levels of real-life anonymity. However, as disappointed as I am, Jones did not reach the levels of complexity he promised for his murder-mystery._

It goes on for another four hundred or so words, artfully pulling apart the novel Jughead Jones spent the last years of his teenage years writing, and the first years of his adulthood rewriting, perfecting.

He almost feels sick, holding this newspaper in his hands, the one he had been so excited to read, only for the rug to be pulled from beneath his feet, catching him off-guard. This book is just so… Jughead. It is Jughead personified. The narrator, a teenager with an affinity for wearing the same rubber bracelet no matter where he goes, thrust into a small-town murder mystery. This was the fantasy Jughead held for himself, as he grew up in a broken home, a fantasy of his life, but with purpose.

Jughead, too, grew up in a small town, but instead of solving murder mysteries with his athletic jock buddy, the classic girl next door and a snobby-rich-girl-turned-good, he was busy at the back of the class. He did his work, passed all his classes, kept his head down and hung out with his best friend, Archie, to avoid his troubled home-life.

Anyone who knows Jughead would know that this character was literally based off himself, which is why he chose to not share his identity. It would leave him too open, too bare. Fuck, Jughead still wears his stupid grey beanie wherever he goes. It’s obvious. He knows that if the people in his life found out he’s F. Jones, they’d search the entire novel for reasons to worry about him. And there’s plenty in there.

Instead, the character that Jughead sees himself in so intensely, has been torn apart. Completely. To shreds. By a complete stranger.

_The narrator, Kit Crocket, is quite literally the epitome of sad, brooding, loner teenager. This is a stereotype that I personally find to be overdone, and Jones’ take on the character adds no value to said stereotype._

_As the novel progresses, Kit Crocket does not feature as an integral part of the story until about 150 pages in, a third of the way through. This is peculiar, given the fact he is the narrator. Instead, Lakeview follows the stories of Benji Griggs and Ellie Lincoln, later joined by Kit Crocket and Franny Hernández, as they attempt to uncover the truth of Chayse Bloomingdale’s death._

Jughead is painfully self-aware. He knows he’s broody, and sad, and he was (and arguably still is) a loner, yet hearing it from an outsider he doesn’t even know, negatively. Well. It feels like more of a personal attack than he could’ve planned for.

“You alright?” Archie asks, sitting in Jughead’s one-seater. The television is on, but muted, and Archie’s face is a picture of concern.

“It’s…” Jughead looks up, making eye contact with his ginger friend, “beyond brutal. But I should’ve expected it. And it’s not exactly wrong.”

“I told you I didn’t want you to read it, man.” Archie says, “It’s not cool. They really went at you.”

Jughead’s eyes flick down to the paragraph written entirely on Jughead himself, and how his mysterious nature had garnered him a following larger than he deserved. “They aren’t wrong.” He repeats himself.

The thing is, Jughead didn’t want any attachment to his work. He wanted to give people his name without them saying, ‘oh, I know you’. That’s why he had decided on the pseudonym F. Jones (which isn’t actually a fake name, anyway, just one that no one would think is him at first glance) and decided to only participate in email interviews or phone interviews, never wanting to meet anyone face to face.

He supposes he has become somewhat of a Clark Kent by day, Superman by night. Random nobody Jughead by day, best-selling author F. Jones by night.

“They _are_ , Jug.” Archie says earnestly, with his stupidly kind eyes. “Your book is amazing.”

“Not everyone is going to think so, I have to get used to it.” Jughead says, but he really just feels like he wants to crawl in on himself right about now and never think about this stupid review again.

“I should tweet them.” Archie mutters.

Ever since Archie’s music career has taken off and he got that little, blue verification tick on his Twitter account, he’s been taking full advantage of it. He tweets celebrities, knowing it will appear in their verified-people-only notification space, and then gets upset when they don’t respond. As if Miley Cyrus is really going to reply to his, ‘ _Great album!’_ tweet.

“Archie.” Jughead rolls his eyes. Publicly, F. Jones and Archie aren’t connected, they don’t even follow each other, in fear that people will connect the Jughead in Archie’s Instagram pictures to F. Jones.

Archie snatches the newspaper from Jughead’s hands and reads the title that Jughead is already familiar with.

**F. JONES’ LAKEVIEW SINKS LIKE TITANIC** \- by Veronica Lodge

“What kind of New York Register journalist puts so much bias into one book review? She doesn’t even know you.” Archie mutters, searching for her on Twitter.

He’s quiet for a bit, tapping his guitar-playing fingers against his screen quickly while Jughead leans back on his own two-seater lounge that he is currently splayed across. Briefly, Jughead wonders why he isn’t trying to stop Archie with more force, but he quickly realises he doesn’t care what his best friend does. He feels a bit resentful to whoever Veronica Lodge is, and Archie’s behaviour doesn’t reflect his own.

“There.” Then Archie gulps, “My management probably hates me.”

Jughead quickly pulls out his own phone, and opens his own (verified, in your face Archie) Twitter app. He searches for @ _archieandrews_ and feels only a nervous anticipation while his page loads.

**Archie Andrews** @ _archieandrews_ ▪ 1m  
I read F. Jones lakeview novel and it was the  
best .. @vlodge ‘s review in NY register is all  
lies

Jughead looks up at Archie, a small smile on his face. He feels a bit of strange gratitude towards the ginger, even though he knows this’ll probably turn into a media shitstorm. Still. "Thanks Archie.”

“I hope you’d do the same thing if someone was trashing my songs, man.” Archie just smiles back, the moment between them mutually felt.   
  
  
  


**B**

“This is not how I wanted Archie Andrews to learn of my existence.” Veronica is pacing her office, “Like. He’s so hot. Am I allowed to say that?”

Betty, sitting politely in the chair across from Veronica’s desk, nods slightly. Her hands are folded in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“And like, why does he care about that book so much anyway? I wasn’t wrong!” Veronica sighs, falling dramatically into her own chair, which rolls a few centimetres left from the impact.

“I actually love that book.” Betty tells her, “I don’t know why you hate it so much.”

“Of course you would like it. Small-town murder mystery. That was probably your wet dream growing up.” Veronica sighs leaning forward, elbows on her desk. “I don’t see the appeal. And I’m starting to think that F. Jones is a forty year old man writing out his erotic fantasies so he doesn’t act on them.”

“Veronica, what?”

“Benji literally hooks up with his thirty-five year old teacher. And he’s in high school. It’s gross.” Veronica continues, “Sounds like a dirty old man’s disgusting sex fantasy if I’ve ever heard one.”

Silently, Betty can’t help but think of how dramatic Veronica is being. That book was no less than amazing, yet V gave it two stars and metaphorically tossed it in the dirt. “They didn’t glorify it, though. If anything F. Jones vilified Miss Miles.”

“Blah, blah, _blah_.”

“Why did you even write a book review?” Betty asks, wondering aloud.

“I wanted to give it a go and Daddy said I could.” she shrugs, “And you just gave me that book, so I thought… why not?”

Hearing this, Betty wants to stand up and jump out the wide glass window just behind Veronica. Hiram Lodge owns the New York Register, which is basically the only reason she’s allowed to publish articles like her last book review.

It’s a fact Betty has both envied and despised ever since she got a job at the New York Register herself, yet never brought up. Betty doesn’t get to publish nearly as much as Veronica does, and Betty is usually stuck with restaurant reviews and event coverage (which isn’t the worst, but it isn’t the best), yet Betty graduated NYU for journalism and Veronica’s education ends at a high school level.

Betty would have loved to do a book review on F. Jones’ debut novel, because it’s a book that resonated with her when she first read it and has continued to do so since. The characters, which Veronica laid out so plainly, were so much deeper than her two-dimensional descriptions. She’s almost embarrassed to admit how much she enjoyed the novel, if not for the fact Veronica already knows, because Betty talked for so long about how great it was and just how much Veronica needed to read it.

She regrets it now.

“What do you think I should reply to Archie?” Veronica asks, “I’m thinking casually flirty.”

“I’m not quite sure how much he’s going to want to flirt after you insulted the book he claims is ‘the best’.” Betty draws her eyebrows down, judging Veronica. Of course, Betty’s reasonings will never stop her.

“Nonsense.” She rolls her eyes, staring at her phone’s screen, “What about… like…”

Veronica stops speaking, typing something out instead, and Betty wants to sigh. Not only is Veronica her co-worker, but somehow her friend. Probably her best friend, in this city at least.

“I tweeted something, and I regret it already.” Veronica says, staring down at her phone. Betty takes it from her hands, her own phone left behind in her office.

**Archie Andrews** @ _archieandrews_ ▪ 2hr  
I read J. Jones lakeview novel and it was the  
best .. @vlodge ‘s review in NY register is all  
lies

_in reply to @archieandrews_  
**Veronica Lodge** @ _vlodge_ ▪ 1m  
If you’d like to explain why it’s so good, my   
DMs are open for you x.

“Oh, V.” Betty sighs, “Only you would insult a famous singer’s favourite book and try and flirt over it.”

“That’s my branding.” Veronica grins, “But really. Are you insulted by my review? Because I know you love that book, too, so... “

“I’m not insulted.” Betty tells her earnestly, “It’s not like I wrote it…”

“But?”

Betty hands Veronica her phone back and resumes fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “But it did make me feel a bit stupid for liking it so much.”

Veronica sighs, “Betty. Just because I didn’t like it doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you just didn’t like the plot, or some of the characters. You tore apart every aspect of it.” Betty says, looking at the roof and shaking her head, then laughs, “Just remind me to never recommend you any more books.”

It feels a bit heavier than that, really. One of the characters, Ellie Lincoln, related to Betty so much, yet Veronica called her boring, an overachiever and too nice. Betty has never read a book in her life where the character was so much like her.

Sure, she related to the indecisiveness of Anna in _My Sister’s Keeper_ , and Hermione’s fear of failure in _Harry Potter_ , and even Suzy’s need to find the truth in _The Thing About Jellyfish._ But never had a character brought all of her qualities together, and been so much like her.

Ellie is an overachiever in _Lakeview_ , but not for no reason. Her parents pressure her into pushing herself too far, so much so that she has a fear of disappointing them. She cries easily, and when she’s alone and thinking too hard, Ellie holds her arm over whatever scented candle is in her room until she blisters. She falls hard, and easily, and is hurt even easier.

It all sounds familiar to Betty, in ways that Veronica does not and will never know. Her parents were always pushing her to do more and more, to be perfect. It got to the point, in high school, where she would have panic attacks if she got anything less than an A. When she was stressed, she would clench her fists hard enough for her nails to break the skin. It stung, and it bled, but it was during a time Betty felt at her lowest. And she, too, falls too easily, too hard, and always comes out of it broken hearted.

Therapy helps, but the things that ruin you in the first place never really leave. Betty has just learnt to keep her problems at bay. The only differences between Ellie and Betty would be their hair and eye colours, and the fact that Ellie is surrounded by her friends during her darkest times.

Betty wasn’t

“It’s not like I care. I just thought that’s what you had to do in a book review.” Veronica said, “I didn’t hate it.”

“Oh my god.” Betty laughs, shaking the tangent her mind has taken, “Have you ever read a book review?”

Veronica looks like she’s contemplating it for a few moments before she shakes her head, “Honestly, no.”

“Wow, V.” Betty stares at her, wide-eyed with her classic furrowed brows. Her lips are stretched in an incredulous smile, one that turns genuine when Veronica barks a laugh in response.

When Betty met Veronica on the first day of working at the New York Register, she immediately thought they wouldn’t surpass a basic level of acquaintance. It was obvious to her, even then, that they came from different worlds. Betty, from a small town in upstate New York and a degree from NYU, and Veronica, born and raised in the heart of the city with no education past high school; yet somehow they found themselves in the same place.

It was only when Veronica continued pestering Betty to go out with her that she finally accepted Ronnie into her life.

“Maybe I shouldn’t do anymore book reviews.” Veronica smiles, her phone buzzes against the wood of her desk but she doesn’t look, “I think my talents are with celebrity gossip and fashion.”

“I think you might be-”

“Shit!” Veronica interrupts Betty, her eyes on her phone. Her sight flicks up to meet Betty’s sheepishly, “Sorry, but. Shit.”

“What?” Betty asks, leaning forward in her chair.

“Archie Andrews messaged me.” Veronica says slowly, “I didn’t even read the message, I’m too scared.”

Veronica has never had issues with guys, and never had issues with trying to pair off Betty with guys, but she does have issues with celebrities. Somehow, despite growing up as a socialite, Veronica still gets starstruck every single time she meets anyone that could be considered a B-List celebrity, or above.

Once, Veronica was assigned to interview 5 Seconds of Summer for the Register, and Betty had been dragged along for the encounter because she was so nervous. One of them (Betty still can’t remember their names) tried asking Veronica for her number, and she was so flustered that she accidentally said no.

“Do you want me to read it for you?” Betty asks, pulling her seat forwards and resting her elbows on Veronica’s desk. She can’t help but feel sorry for Veronica.

“Eee..” Veronica squeaks, and then thrusts her iPhone directly into Betty’s hand.

Betty places her thumb on the scanner, having added her fingerprint into Ronnie’s phone long ago, and unlocks the device directly into the Twitter app. Having open messages makes Veronica’s DMs a cesspool of horny guys and pictures of phallic objects, but Betty bypasses the message requests and enters straight into her main inbox.

“It’s not bad.” says Betty, scanning the message. “Oh, wait.”

“What? What!?” Veronica draws her legs up to her chest, and Betty is thankful for the thick leggings Ronnie chose to wear lest she see a flash of thong.

“It’s a little passive aggressive.” Betty informs her.

“Read out the message, B! I am _dying_ of suspense.”

“I think you might be a little bit dramatic, but okay.” Betty rolls her eyes and lifts her arm up to squeeze her fingers around the bun her hair is in, making sure it is still secure.

There was a good chunk of her life where she chose to wear her hair exclusively in tight ponytails, but after realising that it was a part of herself that she had learned to despise, she gave up the trend. Though, now it seems as if she’s wearing her hair in more and more buns than anything else.

“Hurry!” Veronica exclaims.

“Sorry,” she smiles sheepishly before continuing.

_Lakeview is a really amazing book for_  
_a number of reasons. 1. I have it on_  
_good record that the character Benji_  
_happens to be SIMILAR to me lol 2._  
_The author (this is just as assumption_  
_because idk the author, haha) seems_  
_like he cares a lot about his work and_  
_stuff. 3. The characters are actually_  
_much more complex than you_  
_described them as (my friend told me_  
_to say that just then) AND I have_  
_more reasons but not enough time to_  
_say them all because then I’d be_  
_talking forever so that’s just some_  
_reasons I hope you change your_  
_mind_  
**Archie Andrews** ▪ 3m

Veronica is silent for a moment, before she holds her hand out to take her phone back, then she is silent for another moment, staring at her screen. The seconds tick by, a bird flies past the window, Betty sits still, back to fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

Then, to break the silence; “Do you think I should ask him out?”

“What?” Betty asks incredulously, “No!”

“Why not? I asked him to message me before and that worked.” Veronica continues, staring at her phone, “Even if he was just trying to change my mind. Maybe he could change my mind over dinner.”

“V-”

“Oh, wow, that’s good! I’m going to send that.” She interrupts, typing fast.

“Veronica, what-”

“Whatever you were going to say: irrelevant. I just sent my reply. Quickly, read it before I regret it so much I deactivate my account.” She hands her phone back over the table.

Betty barely registers that this is the third time holding Veronica’s phone in the past ten minutes or so (which one might consider somewhat of a privilege), and instead seeks out her reply to Archie Andrews instead.

_Wow, you sound like my friend_  
_Betty. How about you change_  
_my mind some more over_  
_dinner?_  
**Veronica Lodge** ▪ 1m

“Okay, rude.” Betty says, smiling slightly. “The worst part is I know he’ll probably say yes.”

“Fingers crossed, B. Fingers crossed.” Veronica smiles, holding her phone out for Betty to give it back.

She’s about to place the iPhone into Veronica’s palm until she looks down and realises Archie has replied. She squeaks slightly and looks up and Veronica, wide-eyed, surprised.

“Oh my god, Ron.”  
  


**J**

“I can’t believe this.” Jughead stares at Archie blankly. “Only you would do this.”

“It’s good!” Archie exclaims, clearly not understanding.

Jughead can only sigh, the knot in his throat forming rapidly, as he rereads Archie’s message again. He knew he should’ve supervised Archie’s social media endeavours, but he just had to venture to the kitchen.

_Listen, I’m currently in NYC_  
_so how about you bring your_  
_friend and I’ll bring mine to_  
_Ludovica’s (italian restaurant)_  
_and we ALL convince you how_  
_good Lakeview is?_  
**Archie Andrews** ▪ 5m

“In what universe is this good?” Jughead asks incredulously, curling a loose strand of his hair around his index finger and pulling it slightly, “Knowing you, you’ll probably somehow end up liking this girl. Then I’m going to have to act like I’m not F. Jones.”

“I’m sorry, Jug, really.” Archie leans forward, and Jughead can hear the but coming before it even leaves his stupid mouth. “But, you haven’t even told your _parents_ you’re F. Jones.”

“The difference is that my relationship with my parents isn’t founded upon my novels.” Jughead replies, “They haven’t asked, so I haven’t told.”

“I doubt she’ll ask.”

“Probably not, but she will be talking about it. It’s weird.” Jughead sighs, pulling his grey beanie off his head and running his fingers through his hair.

Archie’s phone buzzes where Jughead left it on the table, and all Jughead can pray for is a _no_. But he knows, Archie is a celebrity. He’s a singer, a heart-throb, and most girls would give a leg for a chance to have dinner with him. That’s what stops Jughead from trying to see the notification, because he knows, and he know that he’s right when Archie smiles at his phone.

There was a time when Jughead was younger that all he wanted was for people to recognise his talent. He wrote like it was his reason for living, and at the time it honestly could have been. Growing up in a small town, it was hard to blend in, because with so little people, everyone really was different. It was harder to stand out, though.

As much as Jughead acted as if he wanted to blend in, all he wanted was to stand out. He craved the attention from his peers like water in a drought, and found the only way to truly do that was to be smart. His only talent was his intellect, and he wanted everyone to know he was smarter than them.

Looking back, Jughead is embarrassed of himself. It was during the beginning of high school that he pulled away and distanced himself from the smart ass he was known to be. Family life was getting harder to manage, and he didn’t want the attention anymore. It was a miracle Archie stayed.

“It’ll be fine.” Archie says, “And, plus. Her friend sounds like a fan, so at least someone will be there puffing up your ego.”

Jughead rolls his eyes good-naturedly.  
  


**B**

The atmosphere of Ludovica’s is one that she never thought she would experience in New York City. Having met a number of celebrities within her lifetime, Betty had assumed Ludovica’s would be more embellished, maybe with flickering, candle-lit chandeliers, or private tables separated by velvet-embroidered curtains.

However, this happened to be a charming surprise.

The moment Betty walked into the streetside restaurant, it felt like she was still living in Beake, her hometown. The small, circular tables with wooden tops and metal legs. The wider, rectangular ones with wooden legs and tops. The quotes on canvas screwed into the walls. The picnic-style plaid red and white table cloths. The metallic serviette holders. The Coca-Cola sign by the door, out of theme. The red and yellow sauce bottles on the table.

Veronica cannot grasp Betty’s immediate love for the place, but Betty understands. Veronica had grown up in the city her entire life, so Betty’s upstate, small town birth is strange to her. This place, however, reminds her more of her humble beginnings than anything else she has encountered since she moved to NYC.

A waitress, wearing casual clothes covered by an apron, comes to where they’re seated, a simple square table, large enough for four people, and asks to take their order. She has obviously dyed black hair and thick eyebrows with red lipstick painted across her mouth. The wrinkles by her eyes and mouth are well formed. Betty smiles politely.

“Actually, we’re waiting for some-” Betty begins, until the door opens and a bell sounds loudly. She stares over to the door, as does Veronica, only to see Archie Andrews walking through the door, followed by someone else. Some guy. Archie's _friend._

His posture isn’t great, Betty notes, and he looks like he really doesn’t want to be here. She can relate, though. Betty hadn’t exactly wanted to come , but Veronica had pushed and pushed until she agreed (“ _Think about it. You, me, Archie Andrews, Archie Andrew’s friend, all talking about your favourite book. This is your wet dream_.”). Archie Andrews, on the other hand, runs a hand through his ginger hair with a smile on his face, a nervous energy radiating off him more than anything else.

“Archie! Jug!” The waitress exclaims, “Auntie Ludo will be so pleased to see you two! I’ll go get her!”

Veronica, sitting across from Betty, smiles up at them. “Well, hello there. I’m Veronica.”

Archie and his friend (Jug?) sit down; Archie next to Veronica and his friend by Betty’s side. He gives both girls a slight grin, and his friend only places his elbows on the table and grabs a menu.

“Well, I’m Archie, and this is Jug.” Archie says.

“I’m Betty Cooper.” Betty says, reaching across the table to shake Archie’s hand.

She turns to Jug with her hand outstretched, and he looks up at her, quizzically, for a moment as if he has never been offered a handshake before. Though, his gaze intently resting on Betty’s face, she takes the brief few seconds to study him.

He’s devastatingly handsome, in a brooding, starving artist sort of way. His black hair sticks out from the grey beanie on his head, the trimming of which is shaped like the spikes of a crown, and his eyes are blue. An indescribable blue, though. Unlike the sky, or the sea, or a lapis lazuli. Just, his own personal shade of blue.

Finally, Jug reaches out to meet Betty’s hand, and it encases her own in a firm shake. The size of his hand compared to her own makes her flush red, and her arm tingles until he releases her.

“Jughead Jones.” He says, blandly, “The third.”

_Jones_ , she thinks. Her investigative mind is whirring to life, even after being dormant under piles of event coverage for quite some time. Jughead Jones… F. Jones… it makes sense that a famous author may know a famous musician, but as if Jughead can see into her mind, he shakes his head minutely.

_Interesting_.  
  


**J**

There is one thing that Jughead worried about coming into this night.

Well, there were multiple things that Jughead worried about. Multiples of multiples, in fact. But the scenario he feared the most went as such: Jughead and Archie walk into Ludovica’s. Veronica Lodge dismantles Jughead’s work, again, this time to his face, unknowingly. Jughead can’t leave, lest he look rude, so he sits and listens to her slander the whole night, falling deeper and deeper into the insecurity that plagues him.

However, what he didn’t expect was for Veronica’s friend to be like this.

He barely gave her any thought when considering the possibilities of tonight, but not only is she incredibly, undeniably, classically beautiful, but she is smart, maybe too smart. Jughead is convinced that she _knows_.

The second he said his full name (a mistake, in hindsight) her eyebrows furrowed lower, her green eyes became wider, her lip quirked curiously.

Jughead doesn’t know her, so he clearly doesn’t know how to pick up on her expressive cues, but it was almost as if he could see the word _Jones_ turning around in her head. It had taken all of his strength to not burst out at her, begging her to keep it a secret, but there was a small family in the corner of the room, and a new employee behind the counter, and Veronica, so all he could do was shake his head. It was possibly the tiniest movement he had ever done, but her eyes widened slightly, so he figured she knew.

Now, though, she seems to be testing her boundaries.

Veronica had said something along the lines of, “ _So, now that you three superfans have gathered, lay it on me_.”

To which Betty had responded, “ _I’d really like to hear what Jughead over here has to say.”_

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating almost, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom. That’s where he is, now, unaware of the chatter going on outside. He only hopes Betty doesn’t say anything, because if Veronica is any sort of decent, she’ll probably be blubbering apologies at him left and right for her review. He doesn’t feel like dealing with that.

Staring at himself in the mirror, Jughead musters the courage to walk back out. Veronica is chatting with Archie, and Betty is on her phone, stirring around her peach sweet tea with a straw. Jughead sits back down, his chair scrapes against the floor, making an awful sound.

“Okay, Jughead. Archie said you’re a big fan of _Lakeview_ , so tell me why my review is wrong.” Veronica turns to face him.

“It’s not wrong.” Jughead says.

“What?” Betty turns to face him, incredulous, phone still in hand.

His eyes flicker to her screen for a fleeting moment and catches the word _Jones_ in black. His heart races, and he swallows, looking back into her eyes.

“It’s just her opinion.” He replies.

Archie’s gaze is boring into his peripheral, and he knows that if they were alone he’s say something like “Don’t put yourself down.” and pat him hard between his shoulder blades. However.

“ _Lakeview_ is the best piece of literary material I’ve read since I was in high school.” Betty says earnestly, her eyes too honest. She’s speaking like she she wants to tell him something, and maybe she does, if his suspicions of _her_ suspicions are correct. “Actually, maybe ever. It’s my favourite book.”

Veronica snorts across the table, “Typical.”

“Well.” Betty says pointedly, turning towards Veronica only for a moment, and then back to Jughead, “I actually recommended the book to her, of course I didn’t know she was going to tear into it. Like a dog.”

She looks at Jughead, almost apologetically, and yeah, she knows. She definitely knows. And she seems like the kind of person who might, maybe, perhaps, pull Jughead to the side at some point during the night and ask him.

Archie says something, but Jughead is still looking at Betty. Her hand flies up, and she squeezes the tight bun her hair has been pulled into.

The worst part about it all is that if she asks, he knows he won’t lie.  
  
  
  


**B**

If Jughead Jones isn’t F. Jones, then Betty is probably looking rather strange. However, as the night continues, it only seems more and more likely. And curiously, Betty keeps picking up on parallels between Jughead and the narrator of _Lakeview_ , Kit Crocket.

Kit wears a rubber bracelet at all times, Jughead wears a grey beanie. Kit has Benji, Jughead has Archie.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” Archie asks Veronica and Betty.

Betty grins and takes a sip from her drink, because it means she gets to ask Archie the same question back. “We both work at the New York Register.” She replies, turning to face Jughead beside her, “What about you guys?”

Either Jughead knows that she knows, or he thinks she’s flirting with him, which, well, judging by her behaviour it could be assumed. He takes a breath through his mouth and his eyes flicker to Archie.

“We grew up together. Small town.” Archie says grinning, “Make a friend in a town like that and you’ll keep them for life.”

Kit and Jughead both grew up in small towns. And had one best jock friend.

“Oh, Betty knows all about small town beginnings. It’s probably why she loves _Lakeview_ so much.” Veronica rolls her eyes, smiling smugly at Betty.

Betty only laughs and hopes they don’t ask more. She diverts the topic back to Archie and Jughead, “What town?”

Jughead beside her becomes a statue, completely still. He has half a burger in his hands that hasn’t quite made it to his mouth, and when Betty turns to face him his blue eyes are already on her, and his eyebrows are furrowed almost comically. She knows, she feels one-hundred-percent sure of it now. Does he know how expressive his face is?

“Riverdale.” Archie fills in the brief silence, and Betty’s head snaps over. She can feel the wry smile on her face becoming more and more known.

“Wow, that’s funny.” she says, eyes lighting up, “Riverdale. Lakeview. Both start with a different body of water.”  
  
  


**J**

Jughead wants to bash his head into this wooden table one hundred times until his skull collapses and pieces of bone shrapnel impale his brain. Of course, he doesn’t, and he sits politely, engaging in conversation when called upon.

He doesn’t know how Archie hasn’t picked up on the hints Betty is dropping. Or maybe he is, and he’s just better at hiding it. Jughead, however, can only hide his nervousness by stuffing his face with his burger.

Everyone else had ordered actual Italian food, but Jughead always gets the burgers from here. Like, if they don’t have burgers in Italy then it wouldn’t be on the menu. There’s only so much spaghetti and pizza a man can take. Burgers, however. Plus, the size of it hides most of his face whenever he goes for a bite.

But along with spaghetti and pizza, there’s also only so many hints from Betty that Jughead can take, and after a particularly obvious comparison between Lakeview and Riverdale, he has to excuse himself for a smoke break.

The street is cold, but it always is, no matter the season. Moving from Riverdale to New York City when he was twenty was probably the most life-changing decision he had ever made. If he had never escaped Riverdale, _Lakeview_ never would have been published. He wouldn't be who he is today, a New York Times best-selling author.

He shields his lighter from the wind inside his jacket, holding a cigarette between his lips to be lit. Moving to New York City also brought _this_ habit. The itch for nicotine. He had never been a social smoker, like many start, he had just walked past a news agency and decided to buy a pack.

He remembered the brand his father would buy, and asked for one pack of those because he didn't know any others, and that night he smoked two off his balcony. It was different than he expected, made his head spin. He liked it, even if it didn't really do that anymore.

The door to Ludovica's opens, and Jughead turns to look. It's Betty, but he isn't surprised. He almost expected it, subconsciously.

The evening sky is a medium blue, the strange time between night and day where you can see the moon and the sun at once.

Betty moves to stand beside him, not wearing a coat and folding her arms to protect herself from the cold. She silently stares out at the dirty sidewalk beside Jughead, seeing all the cracks, the grime. He wonders what she's thinking, because all he can think about is what to say to her.

She breaks the silence first, though, while Jughead is mid-drag. "Does your real name by any chance begin with the letter F?"

Although he knew she knew, to hear her suspicions out loud makes his heart stop, it makes the anxiety hit his chest like he was punched in the sternum. He blows the smoke from his nose, and it stings his eyes.

"Yes." Is all he says, tapping his cigarette so the spent ashes fall to the ground.

It's like after that, Betty doesn't know what to say, like she didn't expect it to come so easy. It's one thing to not tell others the specifics of your job, or to want to stay out of public eye; but it's completely different thing to lie when someone asks you something to your face. He has dealt with enough liars. He hates them.

"I..." She starts, and when Jughead looks at her she's still looking at the street. "Thank you."

"For what?" He asks, brows furrowed slightly. He lifts the cigarette to his mouth one more time and inhales.

"Writing _Lakeview_. It... I've never connected to a book so much in my life." She says. Her left thumb is rubbing over her right palm, and she still doesn't look at him.

Her words, though, hearing those words in real life make him feel something. He doesn't know what, pride perhaps. Is this what it feels like to be accomplished? To inspire?

"Thank _you_." He says, it's the first thing that comes to his head. "It's different to actually hear those words aloud, in real life."

"Why do you hide your identity?" She asks next, finally turning to face him.

"Because I don't want people knowing who I am." He says, the obvious choice.

"Yeah, but..." Betty continues, "why wouldn't you want that?"

Her eyes are green, and she's a blonde, and he can't recall ever seeing someone with that hair/eye colour combination before.

"I don't want to live in a world where people I haven't even met have a first impression of me." He replies, not mentioning the fact he hadn't wanted people in his life searching for hints of him in his books.

Betty nods, mutely.

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell Veronica." Jughead attempts to make the atmosphere lighter, "The last thing I need is her fumbling apologies at me."

She laughs, like a windchime. "No, no. I'd never. Not my secret to tell. Besides, she might be so embarrassed that she'd never talk to Archie again. I don't know about you but... I'd like to see you again."

Jughead nods, wondering if she likes his personality or his novels, or both.

"We should get back inside." He says.

She smiles, sweetly, her green eyes shiny. He smiles back, in a way he intends to be soft, and then she turns around.

"Good idea. I'm cold." She says over her shoulder, opening the door.

Jughead takes one more drag of his cigarette and drops it onto the floor, crushing it under his shoe. He ignores the fluttering in his chest, unknowing if it's from the smoke or something else entirely, and follows her back into the restaurant.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!! i might do a part 2 where there's, yknow, actual romance, but it just felt a bit forced to shove it in here. kudos n comments appreciated!♡


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